Sky People
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Sky People. A term that the people of the Ark called themselves, and a term that the na'vi used to describe all humans. On Pandora, they were all Sky People. They were all tawtute.


**Sky People**

The na'vi called humans Sky People.

Technically they called them "tawtute," but translated into English, that came out as "Sky People," so, ergo, that's what homo sapiens was both on and above Pandora. And as silly as it was, Clarke Griffin couldn't help but feel a little put off by that. Not nearly as mentally distressing as treating the dead and dying over the past eight hours, but still, put off. And it was the only thing that she kept going over and over in her mind as she sat in the staff break room in the medical ward of Hell's Gate. That the universe had a dark sense of humour, and she was the butt of the joke.

Sky People. That had been a term that had been applied to the people of the Ark for nearly a century. Back in 2052, as the threat of nuclear war had loomed, a collection of space stations had banded together in the hopes of preserving themselves from the looming apocalypse, and by extension, the human race. If it was to end in fire, let them stay in Heaven as the sons and daughters of Earth consigned themselves to Hell. After all, the planet had been burning for decades, so why not just put Mother Gaia out of her misery? At the very least, if they were going to live in space, they might as well enjoy the show.

Only it hadn't happened. Nuclear war had been averted at the eleventh hour. The governments of the world, from the US, to China, to India, hadn't been happy at the loss of their space stations, but with so many other issues facing the human race, the Ark, after multiple deals were signed, had been allowed to exist as it was. Decades of people living and dying in space, watching as the Earth died with them. Watching greens turn to browns, watching the white of ice become water, watching seas rise and fires spread across the planet as mankind continued to multiply like maggots on a corpse. Everyone knew that the Ark couldn't last forever. But while nuclear war hadn't ended life on Earth, a certain kind of life on Earth was ending all other kinds of life on Earth, so ergo, the question remained as to what the long game was. What would die first – the Ark, or the planet it orbited?

Clarke didn't know. Seven years ago, she and ninety-nine other "Sky People" had boarded ISV _Thelonious _and journeyed to Pandora. Fresh world. Fresh start. A way of population reduction on the Ark that didn't involve spacing. Only catch was, death was as prevalent here as it had been in the Sol system.

"Moping huh?"

She didn't hear the voice. She was too busy just lying back in the chair, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Dreaming of having a shower.

"Hey. Newbie."

She looked up and saw an old, red-haired, cranky looking woman with a cigarette in her hand.

"You can't have that here," she murmured.

The woman blew the smoke at Clarke. "Blow me."

Clarke didn't. She just tried shooing the smoke away.

"Anyway," the woman said. "Newbie, right? One of the so-called One-Hundred?"

"The what?"

"That's what they're calling you, right? The One-Hundred? One-hundred people who decide they can't make it back home, so they head out to Alpha Centauri to fuck everything up here as well?"

Clarke didn't know who this woman was. But she decided she didn't like her.

"Griffin, Clarke," the woman murmured. "Boring forename, interesting surname, what with griffins being mythological and all."

Clarke squinted at the woman's lab coat, at her own nametag. "Augustine, Grace," she said. "Guess the same to you."

The woman gave her a small smile. "And."

"Grace. Simple name, but nice. Augustine – name of a Catholic saint."

The smile broadened. "So, go on."

"So, you're acting all crabby because you've got a surname that ostensibly means something, while a forename that doesn't even make sense anymore."

"Excuse me?"

Clarke gestured at the cigarette, then her body. "Not exactly graceful right now, are you?"

The smile faded, and Grace's lips formed around the cigarette. More smoke was blown at Clarke's direction.

_Seriously? _She tried shooing it away, but as if a poltergeist, it hung around her. Trying to suffocate her.

"Listen, newbie," Grace said. "I could reminisce about names all day, and that cancer sticks weren't allowed on the Ark, but I really don't have time for hand-holding BS right now. So, lucky day."

"Lucky?" Clarke whispered. She glanced back at the door that led back to the hallway. To beds, pot pans, and a fuck load of morphine. "Give me one reason as to why this is a lucky day."

Grace opened her mouth to speak.

"Bearing in mind that because of an indigenous assault on a patrol, eight men and four women are dead, and five more of them are still injured.

Grace didn't pause in delivering her words; "because it could have been worse."

"Worse?"

"Worse." She took another puff. "Na'vi coat their arrows in venom that kills most people before they get back to Hell's Gate. You saving any of the injured at all is a small miracle."

Clarke didn't say anything. She'd seen miracles on the Ark – usually they were revealed to be the result of hard work rather than divine intervention.

"But the real reason it's your lucky day is that you're a newbie," Grace said. "So, I get to educate you and make my droll, meaningless life have some meaning. And you get to be important for at least ten minutes."

"Excuse me?"

Grace sighed. "You want to do well here, right kid? Better Pandora than a dying spaceship orbiting a dying world?"

"I-"

"Good." Grace dropped the cigarette, extinguished it, and grabbed Clarke's arm, yanking her to her feet. "Come with me."

"Come with…wait, how'd you even get in here?"

Grace flashed her nametag. "Read it."

"Grace Augustine. Avatar Program." Clarke blinked. "The Avatar Program isn't medical, it's-"

"I'm Grace Augustine newbie, and that still means something here, even to people who'd rather be GPs. You, Miss Clarke, are going to help ensure it still means something." She led Clarke out into the corridor outside the break room, and beyond that, through another door that led to Corridor 2-R, Level 3.

_It's so loud._

There were thousands of people at Hell's Gate. The Ark's population measured at just a few hundred. One could go through entire sections of the orbital colony without seeing another soul. But here, there were so many people. Soldiers. Doctors. Scientists. Miners. Administrators. Pandora wasn't a colony world in the same way that Mars and the moon were, but seeing this before her now…again…Clarke was left to ask what the distinction was. The RDA owned Pandora in every sense of the word. Materials were imported to Pandora such as food, and unobtanium was exported en masse. And from a world four light years away, people came here to seek their fortunes. And given how good the pay was, most of them succeeded.

_Least those who survive. _Clarke glanced at some SecOps troopers. They didn't glance back. Instead, she looked at Grace, still leading her through like some kind of mother hen.

"Grace," she said.

The doctor didn't hear her. That, or she was ignoring her.

"Grace," she said more forcefully.

"Speak up newbie, it's loud here." She glanced back at Clarke. "Louder than the Ark I can imagine."

Clarke got her arm loose, but nevertheless kept following. "Um, yes. I-"

Grace snorted. "Figures." She quickened her pace, and all Clarke could do was quicken hers as well. "The Ark. What a stupid name?"

"Excuse me?"

"The Ark of the Bible had a handful of humans, and a shit-tonne of animals. Your Ark had a shit-tonne of humans, and no animals."

"Um, I don't think our ancestors-"

"Of course, there's fewer and fewer animals left to save every day, aren't there?"

Clarke wasn't sure at this point whether Grace was talking to her, or to herself.

"2052," she mused. "You know that by the year 2050 we were meant to be carbon neutral? Like, on the path to healing our planet rather than crapping out even more poison than before?" She snorted. "Nuclear war. What bullshit. Slow apocalypse is much more horrifying, isn't it?"

Clarke said nothing.

"Asked you a question, newbie."

"Um, yes," Clarke said. "It's, er, very slow. And very…apocalyptic."

Grace came to a sudden stop – so sudden that Clarke nearly bumped into her. She watched the doctor slowly turn around to face her, and for a moment, Clarke was reminded of her mother on a bad day. Which, after she'd told her about her decision to leave the Ark, had been most days before she'd taken a shuttle to the _Thelonious_.

"Are you stupid?" Grace asked.

"Pardon?"

She slapped her on the head. "Are you stupid?"

"Um…" Clarke looked around for help. One of her fellow Sky People would have been great – Wells, Finn, hell, even Bellamy – but none were forthcoming. All that was left was an angry woman who was no doubt expecting a certain answer. So, having seen how Ark Security had operated, she murmured, "yes." That was probably the answer Grace wanted.

Grace slapped her head again.

"Ow!"

"Wrong. You are not stupid. You're here. You're a doctor. You've been in a position to observe in real time just how fucked Earth is, and how more fucked it's getting, even though it's screaming for the fucking to stop."

"You say fuck a lot," Clarke murmured.

Grace slapped her again.

"Okay, what the hell?!" Clarke yelled. "You drag me out of medical, and you're leading me to…where are we going, anyway?"

Grace frowned. "Twelve soldiers, right?"

Clarke said nothing.

"Right?"

She lowered her gaze. "Right."

"You want to stop that happening again?"

She looked up at Grace again. "Of course."

"Then follow my lead, and when the time comes to speak, remember, you aren't stupid." She turned around and started walking again. "Or maybe you are, and if so, so help me God I'm out of all hope for this moon."

Clarke, following her, murmured, "not humanity?"

"Course not newbie. I lost faith in humanity decades ago."

Given the tone of her voice, Clarke could tell that she meant it.

* * *

Where Grace led her was the operations centre of Hell's Gate. Like the rest of the complex, it was filled with activity. However, it was 95% administrative and operations staff, the remaining five being dedicated to SecOps grunts who were standing around doing nothing, except maybe reminding the white collars that they were here, and that they expected to be paid. Still following Grace, Clarke glanced out the plasteel windows to the fence and the jungle beyond. Where, as Colonel Quaritch had made clear when she and everyone else had arrived, was filled with stuff that wanted to kill her. So…space Australia then. She was here because of a lack of opportunities back home, and the indigenous folks were being screwed over in the process. Question was, as the mine became harder and harder to operate, who would come first? Settlers, or convicts?

She didn't know. And she stopped asking the question as Grace barged into the office of Parker Selfridge, revealing not only the grandmaster of the RDA's operation on Pandora, but Colonel Quaritch himself.

"The hell?" Parker asked.

Clarke sympathized – she had no idea what was going on either. But her gaze didn't linger long on Parker. It was focused on Quaritch, who looked up from the holographic display of Hell's Gate and its surroundings, and turned it entirely on Grace herself. Giving her a look as cold as space, yet also as fiery as the stars that resided within it.

"Hello," Grace said.

Quaritch snorted. "Doctor Augustine. So nice to see you come to one of our meetings." He shifted his gaze to Parker. "Again."

Grace chuckled. "Nice. Very nice. I'll have to remember that the next time one of your jarheads comes barging into my labs." She looked at her watch. "Huh. Think we're overdue for that today."

"Get out of here Augustine, this is a military matter." Quaritch shifted her gaze back to her. "You stick in your part of the woods, you stick in mine."

"Nice idea colonel. Bit hard when your men are blundering around all over the woods, shooting everything in sight."

"You stuck up piece of-"

"Alright, enough," Parker snapped. He looked at Quaritch, then at Grace. "This where you're going to urge restraint Grace? We lost twelve soldiers today."

Grace glanced at Quaritch. "Well, seeing it was because of men like him that got us into this state, then, sure, I am going to do it again."

Parker sighed. "Great. We've got jarhead here, dickless, and…" He glanced at Clarke. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

She rose a hand and forced a smile. "Um, yeah. I'm-"

"Don't care."

"You should," Grace said.

Parker gave her a look. So did Quaritch for that matter, only while Quaritch had nothing but contempt, Parker had mild curiosity. Enough for him to shift his gaze back to Clarke. There was one advantage to being a "Sky Person" she reflected, in that she was unusually tall for her age. Like the na'vi, one grew taller when they grew up in lower gravity. Honestly, 0.8g was a walk in the hydroponic park for her.

"You new here?" Parker murmured eventually.

She nodded.

"Fine. Then here's how the game works." He looked at Quaritch. "Colonel Miles Quaritch here is going to push for direction action against the natives. Shock and awe, guns blazing, that sort of thing." He looked at Grace. "Doctor Grace Augustine is going to convince me that a diplomatic solution is still possible, that the Avatar Program is still worth its weight in gold, and that peace, love, and happiness can carry the day."

"Jackass," Grace murmured.

He threw his arms out and smirked, like some kind of magician doing an act. "Well, kid? What do you say? The flower, or the bullet?"

Clarke looked at Grace. _You absolute bitch, _she thought. _You can't win the war of words, so you get me to do your work for you._

"Bearing in mind that flower power hasn't worked that well so far."

"Yeah, well, when bullets start flying, no-one cares about flowers," Grace murmured.

"Let the kid talk Grace, she's an adult," Parker said. He blinked. "You…are an adult, right?"

She nodded. "Eighteen. Well, twenty-five, technically, but because of cryo-sleep, I'm-"

"Eighteen." Quaritch leant against the wall, his arms folded. "Fine. Bring it."

Clarke looked at him. Then Grace. Then Parker. For once, no-one said anything. They were all looking at her. She knew what Grace wanted her to say, and given how Quaritch was acting, she could tell what he wanted her to say as well. Parker though…She focused her gaze on him. He seemed reasonable. Arrogant, but reasonable.

"Sky People," she said eventually.

Parker blinked. "Pardon?"

"Sky People," she repeated. "It's what the na'vi call you."

"Your point?" Quaritch asked.

Clarke ignored him. "The people of the Ark were called Sky People. _Are_ called Sky People, technically. Some of us refer to you as Grounders – savages who live on a dying world and all that." She took a breath. "And it's kind of true, isn't it? The Ark's operated for nearly a century. That's how long my people have had to watch the Earth steadily die."

"Jesus Christ, another greenie," Quaritch murmured.

"I know why the Earth's dying," Clarke said. "Too many people, consuming too much. It's been going on for centuries. It's why the moon's being strip-mined, and the very rich and very desperate are jumping ship to Mars. It's why we're out here in another star system. And like every time a more technologically advanced people has met a less technologically advanced one, the results are…well, they're not good. Not for them, not for us."

No-one said anything.

"The Ark's dying," Clarke said. "Yes, little titbit there, it's nearing the end of its operational life. I was born in 2129. I've never felt the sun on my face, or the wind in my hair. I could have chosen Earth for those things, but I chose this place. Only I come here, and…" She took a breath. "I saw twelve people die today, because of things done by people who came before me. And…" She looked at Grace, then Quaritch, then Parker. "And I don't want anyone else to die. I…" She trailed off. "Sorry. That's all I have."

No-one said anything.

"So," Clarke began. "Can I-"

"Go?" Quaritch asked. "Yeah, that'll be great. In the meantime, we-"

"Colonel, give me the room," Parker said.

Quaritch looked up at him. "The hell you-"

"_Now_."

Quaritch looked like he wanted to say something. Something that he might regret. Nevertheless, he kept his mouth shut. He glared at Parker, at Clarke, and most of all, at Grace.

"Sorry Quaritch, maybe-"

"You too Grace."

"What?" Quaritch and Grace asked together.

"I said give me the room," Parker said. "All but the Sky Person and the Grounder."

_Aren't we all Sky People here? _Clarke wondered. She kept her mouth silent though. Quaritch and Grace looked like a pair of binary stars about to go supernova. Nevertheless, they managed to keep the explosions in check long enough for them to exit the room, leaving Clarke alone with the most powerful man on Pandora.

"Straight from the mouths of babes," Parker murmured, as he deactivated the hologram.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't know the saying?"

"No, I know it, but…" She trailed off, realizing what Parker was referring to.

"Oh yeah." Parker realized that she'd realized it. "You know, there was a lot of hub-bub about a group of hormonal teenagers coming here? There's already reports of theft, drug use, and whatnot. Heck, one of your number has even been taking unauthorized trips into the jungle."

_Octavia, _Clarke thought to herself. _Figures._

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret here Clarke." Parker walked away from the holo-table and towards his desk. He picked up a small rock that, just moments ago, had been levitating. He held it in front of Clarke. "Do you know what this is?"

"Unobtanium."

"Unobtanium," he repeated. "Right now, the most precious mineral in the universe. It's what keeps Earth going. It's what keeps the ISVs flying. It's what keeps people like Grace and Quaritch in business. This little baby is the only reason we're here. And despite what you think, it's the only reason you're here."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a doctor. You keep people alive. The more people we have alive, the more unobtanium we get, whether they're digging it out of the ground, protecting people doing the digging, or trying to find ways of stopping the blue monkeys from attacking those doing the digging."

Clarke frowned. "Ever wondered why the na'vi might be attacking you? I mean, apart from the shooting."

Parker said nothing.

"I know history Mister Selfridge. Colonization's great until one realizes that the land isn't terra nullius. And I also know that the history of Pandora aside hasn't been rosy."

Parker shrugged. "We've had some problems, but-"

"Karl Falco." Clarke fought the urge to smile as she saw the flicker of recognition in Parker's eyes. "Yes, I know. Everyone knows. God's sake it was only two years ago, and everyone's trying to cover it up. I wonder…how do the Tipani feel about that?"

Parker put the unobtanium back on its suspender and gave it a spin. He looked at it, rather than at her.

"The RDA – leading the sustainable development of Alpha Centauri," Clarke murmured. "Based on extracting a non-renewable resource that's pissing off the natives in the process."

"That non-renewable resource is what keeps the lights on back home," Parker murmured.

"I know. And I know that you're not as much a hard-arse as you think."

"Oh really? Why?"

He asked it without any sense of self-awareness. Nevertheless, Clarke pushed forward. "I think you know that Quaritch is advocating the easier solution, but Grace is advocating the right one. And if growing up on the Ark taught me anything, choosing between what's easy and what's right…" She took a breath. Thinking of her father. "Let's just say I'd have liked to see more people choose to do the right thing rather than the easy one." She leant back against the wall of the office. "Did I come to the wrong planet to see that?"

Parker, after a moment, murmured, "moon."

"What?"

"Moon. Pandora's a moon."

Clarke scowled. "You know what I meant."

"I do. Which is why I'll play your game."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll keep Quaritch on a leash for now. Doctor Augustine gets to run her show a little longer. And you get to return to the medical ward and forget the last ten minutes of this conversation ever happened."

Clarke gave him a smile.

"Now get out. And if Grace asks, you had nothing to do with this decision."

"Yes sir. Of course." She exited the office, a spring in her step, and a smile on her face. Thinking maybe, just maybe, there was hope for this world. For herself. For humanity. For Sky People.

The hope lasted only a matter of months.

* * *

_A/N_

_So I've watched the first two seasons of _The 100 _and I've got to say, I've had some _Avatar _vibes._

_Seriously, hear me out. We have:_

_-Advanced humans called Sky People coming into contact with Grounders/na'vi who are physically stronger, but less advanced._

_-The Grounders/na'vi refuse to use firearms for cultural reasons._

_-Both take place in the mid 22nd century._

_-Both have an Earth that's been ecologically harmed by, among other things, nuclear war._

_Now, is this all coincidence? Well, yes. Almost certainly. Still, drabbled this up. _


End file.
